


get lucky

by adamantine



Series: dragon keith & human shiro [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (of a sorts), (other characters only mentioned), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cat Boy Keith (Voltron), Cock Warming, Double Penetration, Dragon Keith (Voltron), Fantasy Sheith Week 2019, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Male Lactation, Reversible Sheith, Sex Potions/Magic, and now for the tags of deep embarrassment:, the galra are dragon shapeshifters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 03:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18044645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: Coran sends Shiro and Keith a pre-wedding gift.Written for Fantasy Sheith Week 2019.(This is a sequel to my other dragon fic but it doesn’t really matter as it has about as much plot as that one, if not less.)





	get lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Note: The tags are there as warnings more than an indication of how much they’re used. Some things are just mentioned in passing.

Shiro deactivated the mask on his Marmora suit. His hair whipped wildly behind him as Keith descended. Keith rolled, never content to fly without adding a little flair, and not for the first time, Shiro was grateful for the harness Keith’s father had built. It kept Shiro firmly latched onto Keith’s back, no matter what kind of aerial acrobatics Keith got up to.

Shiro whooped in delight when Keith pulled away barely in time to avoid flying into a mountain. If Kolivan was there he likely would have been near hysterics at the maneuver but Shiro trusted Keith with his life. To Shiro, Keith’s flying was breathtaking, especially when he was experiencing it first hand, and he knew Keith’s speed and small stature let him pull off maneuvers full-blooded Galra couldn’t. They walked—Keith danced.

The mountains grew dense and imposing, hampering Keith’s abilities to fly as he pleased. Mist seemed the perpetually shroud the mountain range the Marmora’s base was situated in, helping it stay hidden for centuries even though the base itself was near Daibazaal’s capital, though “near” was a relative term to the Galra. The capital was an hour away by flight when undertaken at a leisurely pace, half that if not, and a full day’s journey if a horse rode at breakneck speed the entire distance. To Shiro, that was not “near” by any definition of the word but to the Marmora it was the equivalent of building their fortress in Zarkon’s backyard. A risky move but one that had paid off and now that Zarkon was dead the closeness meant the Marmora could rebuild the Galra’s governing structure without needing to relocate to the capital, maintaining an amount of privacy to the organization. Shiro appreciated that privacy as while his official residence was in the capital (as expected of an ambassador), the reality was he stayed wherever Keith was staying and that was almost always the Marmora’s base.

The Marmora’s towering stone pillars were nothing like the snow-capped peaks of Shiro’s home country, feeling as different as the Galra did from humans: yes, there were similarities, and Shiro could recognize they had features of mountains, but if he was asked to describe a mountain to someone that hadn’t seen one before they wouldn’t be what he used as a representation of the concept. The Marmora lived inside the pillars, somehow having hollowed out the stone with magic and Galra-fire in a feat of engineering Shiro couldn’t begin to comprehend. It allowed them to blend in, befitting their history as a once-secret rebel group. Shiro vastly preferred it to the capital city where imposing towers dominated the landscape oppressively. During Zarkon’s reign, Shiro had been imprisoned in one of those towers not by lock and key but by sheer height. The towers were impossible for a human to navigate; you needed the ability to fly. The Marmora’s home wasn’t like that. Since Keith’s father and Keith himself until he had gotten older lacked the ability to fly the Marmora made accommodations for them that Shiro now benefited from. With the Marmora coming into power, the capital was being transformed as well but Shiro still didn’t think he’d ever feel as comfortable there as he did in Keith’s childhood home.

Keith circled the top of a pillar until he found a spot where the stone had been smoothed down for an easier landing. As soon as his claws touched the ground Shiro unlocked himself from the harness and slid off his back. At Krolia’s insistence, the Marmora had made Shiro his own suit to fly in. It was different from the Marmora’s usual style: instead of their dark color scheme it was white and grey and had his family crest—a snowshoe hare–on his chest. The Marmora found the crest amusing, often poking fun at him for it, as a hare was a prey animal and therefore couldn’t strike the fear necessary to make it a sensible crest but Shiro didn’t mind their jests. Hares were swift and resourceful, a symbol of cunning and trickery. Shiro had needed all of those things to survive the war.

Shiro leaned happily against Keith’s large frame, soaking in the warmth from his scales.

Keith turned his head to look at Shiro.  _Did you enjoy yourself?_  The finer points of the Galran language still escaped him but Keith was easy to understand no matter what form he was in.

“When do I not? Flying with you is the best feeling in the world.”

Keith began to shift, the armor and harness transforming with him as he did. The bulky armor turned into a dark skintight suit that clung to his lithe frame and the harness lost its bulk to wrap neatly around his torso. Shiro was tempted to tug on it and watch the way Keith’s breath would catch when the material rubbed against his chest.

“So you’re saying flying with me is even better than,”—he paused dramatically, his eyelashes fluttering insincerely—“other activities?”

“Well,” Shiro said while scooping Keith into his arms, “when you put it that way, flying with you is the  _second_  best feeling in the world.” Shiro casually held Keith up by his thighs as a show of strength though if he was being fair his Galra forged arm was doing most of the work; Keith was pure muscle and not even close to as light as he looked. They leaned into each other, lips almost touching. “The true best feeling is fu—”

A loud cough stopped Shiro from finishing that sentence. He looked past Keith’s shoulder and saw Krolia gazing at them with an amused expression, her violet-rose hair swaying in the wind.

Shiro carefully set Keith down. It didn’t matter how long he’d known Krolia, or how many times it had happened, it still embarrassed him terribly when she caught him in a compromising position with her son. The Galra were less prudish about these things but it was one thing to deal with their more liberal attitudes and another to embrace those attitudes in front of Keith’s mother.

Keith shared none of his embarrassment; he was simply happy to see her. “Mom, you’re back?”

“That’s right, little one.” She held out her hands. Keith ran to her and was pulled into a crushing embrace.

Shiro followed after them, smiling at their display. Keith loved his mother dearly. It warmed his heart knowing their rocky history. Krolia had spent most of Keith’s childhood away on missions and it wasn’t until later in Keith’s life that they had bonded.

“How did it go?” Shiro asked, following after them. “Did you find Lotor?”

“We did,” Krolia replied. “He’s holed himself up deep in the Oriande mountains at the edge of Altea. We can’t get to him. But it’s not all bad news. The last of Sendak’s faction have been officially destroyed and Trugg has taken over Ranveig’s territory, spreading her forces thin. Both the Marmora and Lotor’s people are picking them off one by one. The wild card is still Haggar—Honerva—whatever she’s calling herself these days. We can’t tell which group she’ll side with— _if_  she sides with anyone at all. We’ve heard rumors she’s been spotted in an Altean refugee camp, but nothing concrete yet. Romelle is investigating the rumor at Queen Allura’s request. We’ll know soon enough if they’re true.”

Shiro took her information in with trepidation. The death of Zarkon had split the Galra into several factions, the largest one and growing was the Marmora but much of that growth were civilians. Shiro hadn’t realized as an outsider just how many of the Galra had nothing to do with the war or been part of the violence. Much of the Galra lived in small disparate groups, rarely shifting out of their flying forms, and were willing to support any leader promising a change from Zarkon’s tyranny.

Lotor was Zarkon’s son but it was neither strike for or against him in the Galra’s eyes. He claimed to rule the Galra was his destiny by birthright but it was a meaningless claim to the Galra; they had no concept of inheritance, no rights granted by blood, only violence. It was a concept that extended to marriage, a fact Shiro had learned when he spoke of it with Keith. In the Galra’s eyes, he and Keith were already bonded by virtue of living together. The Galra claimed marriage was for races that cared about securing fortunes and titles. The Galra had no need for either. Instead of using money they traded favors and skills, instead of owning property a Galra’s territory was whatever they were willing to protect. Understandably these weren’t things that could be passed down after death. A family could keep a territory only as long as they were able and willing to protect it. They had no traditional ideas of nobility. Lotor was Zarkon’s son but he wasn’t a  _prince_.

“I don’t like that Lotor is still out there,” Keith said.

“Neither do I, little one, but he might not be the threat we think he is. I think he might claim Oriande as his own separate land. He doesn’t have the forces to protect much else. He’s only been picking off Trugg's people when they’ve ventured into his territory. The only problem is Queen Allura. She wants to begin rebuilding in Altea soon and I’m not sure she’ll be happy to let go of part of her kingdom, no matter how remote and distant, to Lotor. If she chooses to flush him out it will be war again.”

“She might not have a choice,” said Shiro, not believing Lotor would be content to stay in Oriande. “He’s dangerous. His forces can attack her at any time if she returns to Altea.”

“He would be a fool to do so. He doesn’t have the ability to claim more than Oriande,” Krolia said, blunt in her assessment of Lotor’s forces but blinded by the Galra’s view of territory. Shiro had a gut feeling Lotor wasn’t like the rest of the Galra.

“Zarkon couldn’t claim Altea, but it didn’t stop him from destroying it,” he countered.

“Zarkon acted out of revenge. He blamed Altea for the destruction of the old capital. He was deranged and mistaken. Dark magic destroyed the old capital and the Alteans merely contained that magic to the city instead of letting it spread to the rest of Daibazaal.” It was always strange to Shiro when Krolia, or any of the other Galra, spoke of events long ago as if they were recent. The destruction of Daibazaal’s former capital had happened centuries earlier and to humans was shrouded in mystery.

“It’s Allura’s decision in the end,” Shiro said lightly. Would Allura want to eliminate Lotor or would she be willing to look the other way if he stayed in his corner of her land? There was also still Honerva to contend with. It was impossible to say how she would react to Lotor lurking about in Altea. Would she go after him? If she did would it be to destroy or join him? There was a complicated history between them unknown to Shiro or the Marmora.

“That it is,” Krolia conceded. “The Marmora will always regret not being able to stop the destruction of Altea. We won’t let it happen again. We’ll destroy Lotor if that’s what Allura chooses.” Krolia was firm in her resolve. Shiro knew it wasn’t just guilt motivating her. She had taken a deep liking to Allura. They were both strong-willed women with a deep sense of duty and despite their age difference (of several centuries) they had developed a friendship of peers. Shiro almost missed how they used to clash as together they could be quite bruising to his small but  _not_  non-existent ego. “That’s enough talk of politics for now. I want to know how you two are doing. You haven’t been wearing Shiro out, have you?” The wicked glint in her eyes reminded him too much of Keith. In fact, when he looked over at his lovely fiancé it was like seeing double.

“Of course not. I let him out of bed at least once a day.”

Krolia and Keith laughed at his reaction. Keith’s sweet laugh almost made Shiro’s embarrassment worth it.

“What a healthy blush,” Krolia teased.

Shiro chose to ignore their bait. “We had to make a slight change of travel plans for the wedding. The high priestess is refusing to hold the ceremony if Keith isn’t blessed. She believes it’s bad enough that Keith is born out of wedlock.” In her letter, she had referred to Keith as a “bastard heathen” no less than twelve times. If it wouldn’t cause a diplomatic incident Shiro would have requested they be married by a lesser priestess and not one so tactless in her religious fervor.

“Blessed?” Krolia asked, reminding him the human’s religion was foreign to the Marmora as Keith’s father wasn’t a big practitioner.

“They’re going to set me on fire, drown me, tar and feather me, and,” Keith said seriously, “stone me. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Oh?” Krolia asked as she led them to an indent in the mountain. They stood there for a moment while Krolia traced a rune in the air. The stone shifted underneath them until they were sinking into the ground.

“You missed one,” Shiro informed Keith. “There are five gods, remember?”

Violet lights illuminated a set of runes on a stone wall. When touched they would lead to different levels in the mountain. Like most Galra made things the runes were only responsive to their brand of magic. While Shiro’s arm allowed him to use it Keith’s father, being fortunate enough to have all of his original limbs, used a device to interact with it.

“I didn’t forget. I just can’t think of a way to die by plant,” Keith admitted sheepishly.

Krolia placed her palm against a rune; it began to glow. “Eat a poisonous one, perhaps?” When she pulled her hand away the room began to descend into the mountain, the rune still glowing a brilliant violet as it did.

“It’s a ceremony for being accepted by the gods, I suppose?” Shiro said. “As you can imagine it’s not usually as life-threatening as Keith is making it sound. The high priestess will splash a few drops of water on him, burn a little incense, scatter a few handfuls of feathers, and have him hold a stone. The part even Keith can’t think of a way to make sound deadly is having to wear a crown of flowers.”

The runes stopped glowing and the walls part revealing an open hallway. “Sounds like a truly brutal ordeal. Be careful, little one. You know a Galra’s one weakness is a freshly picked flower.”

The mountain was designed as an atrium making it easy for both of the Galra’s forms to live in ease. There were gigantic roosts and small human-sized chambers, public places and private bedrooms. Keith’s rooms took up the vast majority of the floor they were in.

“I’ll try my best not to snap and eat the high priestess.” Shiro had shown Keith the high priestess’s letter; needless to say he wasn’t fond of her as a result.

“I have to get back to Kolivan but before I do, there’s a present from Coran I had sent to your chambers. It’s a congratulatory pre-wedding gift? An Altean custom, he said. Allura and Romelle refrained from sending their own. They claimed it wasn’t appropriate as men send gifts to the groom, and women send gifts to the bride. As there is no bride in this case they left it to Coran.”

Shiro was immediately suspicious of the division. Allura wasn’t the type to uphold traditions without reason. “We’ll be sure to thank him the next time we see him,” he said tentatively.

Krolia parted from them and Shiro followed Keith to what was really  _their_  chambers. Keith was practically skipping in excitement, his dark locks fanning out behind him. “I wonder what Coran sent.”

A small, ornate box was had been placed on their bed, a message from Coran attached to it. Keith used the attached key to unlock it revealing dozens of vials labeled in Altean packaged carefully inside.

Keith picked up a vial of glowing cyan liquid and shook it. “What are they, medicine?”

Shiro skimmed through Coran’s letter and let out a squeak of horror unbecoming of his age and station. He regretted ever befriending Allura’s advisor.

“They’re uh, they’re potions,” Shiro said. “Coran, he wrote a letter.” He shoved the parchment into Keith’s hands, happy to be rid of it.

Keith scanned it, his eyebrows shooting up. “Coran gave us sex potions?”

Shiro covered his face with his hands. He interpreted Coran’s letter correctly then. That was unfortunate.

Keith began to read the letter out loud. “‘Dear Lord Shirogane and Master Keith. Is that an appropriate address? Should he be Lord Marmora? No, don’t write that part Bandor. I’m just thinking aloud. It’s a traditional pre-wedding ritual in Altea for a couple to spend time privately to determine their sexual compatibility. Gifts with that in mind are given before the wedding. The potions in these vials each present a different sexual experience. It’s not recommended to drink more than a few drops at a time as the more you drink, the longer the effects last. And—this is very important, don’t leave this part out Bandor—DO NOT MIX THE POTIONS. It takes a proper Altean alchemist to mix potions safely. I had to guess on your preferences but I’ve been told much of this set is popular with men in your age group. Surely you’ll find something you like. Do you think I should add more, Bandor? Maybe an explanation for each vial? No, you’re right—”

“—Please don’t read any more of it,” Shiro groaned. Bandor, Romelle’s younger brother and Coran’s assistant, clearly didn’t grasp the art of dictation. The letter spanned on for several pages with Bandor capturing what looked like several hours of Coran’s conversations.

“That’s clever of them,” Keith said, folding Coran’s letter back up. “The Alteans. Much smarter than human attitudes toward sex and marriage.” When Shiro had told him that sex was supposed to be reserved for after a marriage Keith had guffawed so hard he’d fallen out of their bed, taking half of their bedding with him. Shiro couldn’t blame him as he’d hardly stuck to this aspect of human culture himself.

“Yes, well.” He gestured at the vials Keith had unpacked. “Let’s put these away then.”

“Why?” Keith asked with an earnest look of confusion.

“Unless—you want to try them?” Was it just Shiro or was the mountain hot today? Usually, the temperature was regulated by magic. He’d need to look into it. Perhaps a rune was malfunctioning somewhere in their bedroom (nevermind that his Marmora suit regulated temperature too).

“Of course,” Keith said, closing the space between them. “We need to see if we’re compatible.” He pressed a thigh between Shiro’s legs and all of the heat in Shiro’s body pooled to the spot their bodies touched. It seemed the excess heat was coming from Keith which made sense—he could breathe fire after all.

Shiro hooked a hand through Keith’s harness and tugged him closer. Keith made a little sound that reminded Shiro why he resisted the temptation to pull on it when they weren’t alone. That sound was for Shiro’s ears only.

“You have a point. Wouldn’t want to marry a man I’m not compatible with.” He pulled tighter on the harness.

“What are you waiting for?” Keith’s smirk was awfully bold for someone practically melting into Shiro’s embrace. “We have a lot of potions to test.”

Shiro lifted Keith in his arms and carried him to their bed.

Later, much later, Keith nuzzled against his chest, content. Shiro traced the lavender markings on Keith’s back and smiled when a low rumbling sound started filling the room and small vibrations tickled his skin. It wasn’t quite the purring of a cat but it was close enough to be mistaken for it. Keith claimed the fire within him caused the sound but Shiro, who knew nothing of Galra biology other than what he discovered from his explorations of Keith, couldn’t tell if this was a joke or a true statement. There was an actual Galran word for the phenomenon but like most Galran words it was impossible to replicate in a human or human-like form.

Shiro was nearly asleep when he realized they hadn’t used any of Coran’s gifts.

_Oops._

At least the mistake gave him the chance to find an Altean dictionary to help decipher the contents of each vial.

 

🌅

The first vial labeled “Grow Longer” seemed straightforward enough. Shiro drank it with the expectation his cock would lengthen.

He waited for the effects to kick in but there was nothing: the vial was a dud. Perhaps they were not true potions at all but exaggerations, illusions, more for the mind than body. Drink this and your cock will grow! Except it won’t really, but the thought it _might_ created confidence and that was enough.

The potion might have been a dud but Shiro was hard and Keith was as beautiful as ever, so he stopped wasting time and got to taking Keith apart in their bed. They had cleared their schedules for this; he was going to enjoy every minute of it.

As the afternoon bled into the evening Shiro began to realize something  _had_  changed. No matter how many times Keith came, no matter how much Shiro was certain he had reached his limit, his cock stayed at attention. Shiro had stamina but not like  _this_. Not even Keith with his Galra biology had stamina _like_ _this_.

Shiro had misunderstood the vial’s label. He rattled his brain, trying to figure out where he went wrong. He did notice the word used for “longer” in Altean referred to time not length but he had thought it was a quirk of the label. Now? He didn’t think it was a quirk at all but the true, intentional meaning of the word while “grow” had to be Altean slang the dictionary didn’t care to list.

The potion had given him what seemed to be an everlasting erection. He panicked and Keith had the gall to laugh at his plight.

He glared at Keith. “Don’t laugh at—”

Keith sank onto his cock.

“—Me,” he weakly finished.

Shiro waited, expecting Keith to move and take what he wanted as Shiro was too exhausted to move for him. Instead, Keith reached for a book on his nightstand and began to read.

Shiro was a patient man. It was a skill he had honed over the years and was proud of. It was at least a solid minute, if not more, before he broke the silence. “Keith?”

“Mmm?” Keith didn’t look up from his book.

“Are you—” He wanted to ask if Keith was going to move but realized that wasn’t the right question. Keith  _was_  moving. Each time he turned the page or took a breath, Shiro could feel it. With every passing minute, Shiro grew more aware of Keith’s tiny movements.

“Are you comfortable?” Shiro settled for asking. It immediately felt like a ridiculous thing to ask. Was Keith comfortable sitting on his cock like it was a piece of furniture?

Keith spared him a glance. “Very.” He stretched an arm above his head; the large movement made Shiro see stars. “Is it okay if I keep your cock inside of me?”

Shiro’s eyes widened. Was it okay? As if it was Keith's privilege to keep Shiro's cock warm deep inside his ass, and not the other way around. “Yes,” he whispered.

Keith went back to reading while keeping Shiro’s cock warm inside of him. Shiro wasn’t sure if the tight heat was a sanctuary or a prison.

Keith lingered on the page he was reading. He stayed still, barely breathing, and that was when Shiro realized Keith had lost his composure.

Shiro lightly thrust his hips and smirked when Keith dropped his book.

“You’ve been so good to me,” Shiro said against his ear. “Let me be good to you.”

Keith tensed in anticipation, his ass squeezing around Shiro’s cock. Shiro carefully pushed Keith down, keeping Keith’s lower half in his lap as he did. Keith went easily, whimpering when Shiro didn’t stop holding him down. Shiro fucked him until he was a drooling mess. He filled Keith over and over until the potion wore off and come was spilling out of Keith each time he moved.

Keith volunteered to drink from the next vial. The potion he chose made his desire urgent. He begged relentlessly for Shiro’s touch and whined if Shiro dared to leave him unfilled. It was a powerful but redundant potion. Keith’s horniness didn’t need an extra boost. He was always on the verge of asking Shiro to fuck him.

Shiro drank from a potion labeled “stretch” uncertain of what exactly would be stretching and worried it was another word his dictionary didn’t have a proper translation for. They didn’t have to wait long to find out what the potion did—Shiro could feel something was happening inside of him. He tentatively pressed at his rim and sucked in a sharp breath when he was met with almost no resistance. He added another finger, then a third before Keith took over to test his new limits and when Keith found there were none he rushed Shiro out of their too-small bedroom and into a part of the mountain he could be in his full form.

It was an impossible dream of Shiro’s to feel that massive cock inside him but he had long accepted it would never happen. It would kill him if they tried, there was no way around it. Except, it turned out, there  _was_  a way through Altean alchemy. For that alone, he could throw Coran a party.

The potion did more than just stretch him—it added space that wasn’t there before, giving somewhere for Keith’s cock to slide into. Keith might have been small for a Galra but it was almost comical how much he dwarfed Shiro. All Shiro could see as Keith’s cock filled him were red scales. He should have been afraid. Just because the potion made sex with Keith in this form possible didn’t mean they should have tried it. Keith was deadly in all that he was. His size, his claws, his fangs, his ability to breathe fire—there were a thousand ways Keith could kill him. But Shiro wasn’t afraid. More than that: he felt safe. Keith would  _never_  harm him. He cared for Shiro no matter what form he was in. Shiro trusted him with his life.

He was rewarded for his trust. Keith impaled him in the gentlest manner, careful not to crush him but not hesitant to test the limits of what Shiro could take. Each thrust of Keith’s cock had Shiro’s entire body lifting up like it weighed nothing to him. Shiro was entirely at Keith’s mercy. It was everything Shiro dreamed it would be. He vowed to buy more of the potion that made it possible.

They split a potion that promised to let them feel their partner’s sensations. For Shiro, it meant finding out how strongly his touch affected Keith. Keith was sensitive in way Shiro was not. At first, Shiro thought it was his Galra lineage that made him so sensitive but when he voiced that idea out loud Keith laughed.

“It’s you,” Keith said.

“What do you mean?” Shiro was confused.

“You make me like this. It’s your touch I’m sensitive to. Nothing else.”

_Oh._

Being able to feel the way his touch made Keith burn with desire was an affirmation he never knew he needed. He tried the things he knew would make Keith cry out, curious to see if they felt as good to Keith as he made them seem. Shiro grabbed a fist full of Keith’s hair and pulled. It was a shock to feel Keith’s pleasure at the rough action. He wasn’t faking how much he liked it.

Shiro didn’t want to hurt Keith and with the potion, he could feel exactly when something was too much. He bent Keith over a desk and finally understood why Keith went so pliant when Shiro took control. It excited him when Shiro took charge and he liked it especially when Shiro was forceful. Keith was unnaturally strong so in that Shiro didn’t worry: there was no point in which Shiro truly had the upper hand in a contest of strength but it seemed Keith liked the illusion at least of being at Shiro’s mercy. Heat blossomed inside of Keith when Shiro lifted his hips with ease to line himself up. Shiro entered him roughly and was hit with his own pleasure at Keith squeezing around him and Keith’s at the suddenness of the action. Keith loved the way each of Shiro’s thrusts pushed him against the desk and loved it even more when his feet were lifted off the ground. It wasn’t as if Shiro hadn’t known these things, but he’d never felt the truth of it. Nothing was hidden from him. He wondered briefly what insight Keith was getting from having Shiro’s point of view.

Shiro turned Keith around, wanting to see his face. Keith took the change in position as a chance to greedily wrap his legs around Shiro’s waist and attempt to shove Shiro’s cock further inside of him. As if that were possible. Shiro applauded him for trying. Out of all the potions they drank Shiro thought that one was the most conducive to testing compatibility.

One of the potions gave Shiro a second cock that was larger and thicker than his original. Shiro realized the potion to stretch was likely meant to be used in conjunction with it. He hesitated to use his second cock on Keith without it. When he voiced those concerns Keith growled at him.

“We’d be wasting the stretch potion. Trust me, I can handle it.”

It wasn’t bravado. Shiro didn’t understand  _how_  but Keith managed to fit both of Shiro’s cocks inside of him. It lacked the ease the potion to stretch would have given them but that had its own merit. The strain of it forced Shiro to go slowly and as he moved inside of Keith he noticed a bulge on Keith’s stomach.

Shiro cursed and grabbed Keith’s hand to place it over the bulge. He held both their hands there as he thrust and nearly came from the knowledge that yes, those were his cocks bulging out of Keith. Shiro pressed down, curious, and Keith whimpered. Shiro wished they could mix potions. He wanted to know what Keith was feeling.

“Does it hurt?” Shiro asked.

“No.” Keith’s voice had gone raspy. “Push down harder.”

“Tell me when it’s too much.” Shiro increased the pressure slowly, carefully watching Keith’s reaction for signs of discomfort. He kept going until the pressure made Keith spill over their hands. Shiro’s cocks followed soon after, filling Keith up, leaving him with a smaller but still visible bulge when he pulled out. He pushed on it, feeling irrationally mournful at seeing his seed dribble out of Keith.

A potion of lubrication made the drinker produce a slick from their ass; it was useful but  _strange_. He didn’t think he preferred it over other methods of lubrication, though there was a convenience to it. It was easy to carry a small vial when traveling and it lasted a good amount of time without the need for reapplication. Similarly, a potion that made the drinker’s come take on an irresistible taste was an enjoyable novelty but far from being a life-shattering alteration. Shiro already liked the taste of Keith and Keith liked the taste of him; they didn’t need to change that.

Another potion made Shiro’s chest swell with nectar. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Coran thinking this would be a potion suitable to their interests. He felt it was a specific dig at the size of his chest. Nevertheless, it was a quiet pleasure to have Keith suckle at his chest, relieving the ache that grown there—it wasn’t the first time for it, just the first time there was a higher purpose to the action. He wasn’t the only one receiving pleasure from it; Keith and his impossibly quick biology got off twice. Shiro had done nothing more to touch him than comb his fingers through his hair and run a comforting hand down his back.

Shiro had been vaguely aware Altean alchemy wasn’t limited to the battlefield or infirmaries but he hadn’t imagined it could be used for pleasure. If humans were prudish and Galra open and uninhibited, Alteans were somewhere between—or at least, that had been Shiro’s impression. He realized his opinions might have been skewed by his friendship with Queen Allura. It was possible she wasn’t  _entirely_ representative of her people. The past friendship between Altea and Daibazaal should have been a clue that there were more cultural similarities than first appeared. He knew for example while Keith’s Galra-human lineage was unique Galra-Altean lineages had once not been. It was entirely possible they had used alchemy in their unions.

“So what's the verdict?” Shiro asked when Keith finished the last potion. “Are we compatible?”

Keith lay on top of him, their bodies unclothed. The potion’s effects were still active giving Keith black cat-like ears and a tail. Keith’s hands wandered across Shiro with no obvious purpose but his tail flicked back and forth revealing his impatience.

Shiro grabbed the base of Keith’s tail and pulled, lifting Keith’s slightly off of him as he did. Keith closed his eyes. His hands stopped their wandering, sharp claws digging into Shiro’s shoulders instead. Shiro wasn’t sure if the claws were a consequence of the potion or if it was Keith’s other form slipping through.

“Mmm, I don’t know. I think we need to do more testing.”

“Do you now?” Shiro was marrying a brat with no consideration for his human stamina. Lucky for Keith, Shiro wasn’t the type to accept his body’s limits without a fight. “Sit up?”

Keith did as he was told, letting Shiro’s hands guide him above Shiro’s cock that had grown hard the moment Keith’s claws had dug into him. Keith was loose and stretched out from earlier, making it easy for him to sink down. His ears turned to the sides as he bottomed out and his tail wrapped around his torso like a black rope and Shiro found he liked the sight of Keith tied up though that wasn’t much of revelation: he always liked the sight of Keith. Keith rode him and Shiro could have gotten off just from watching him. Feeling Keith clench around him was borderline too much.

He dug his fingers into soft skin at Keith’s thighs. “Keith, Keith—you’re so good to me.”

Keith  _mewled_  at Shiro’s sweet talk and the sound was so shocking Shiro thrust his hips on instinct with a vicious force, bringing out the sound from Keith  _again_.

The potion was making Keith dangerously cute to Shiro’s health. Shiro did everything he could to draw the sound out from Keith. Each mewl had Shiro on the verge of squealing in delight; the only thing that held him back was his certainty Keith would claw him if he dared. Keith kneaded at Shiro’s chest, his fingers curling and uncurling and sharp claws lightly grazing his skin.

It was too much for Shiro. He spilled inside of Keith in a rush. Keith followed soon after, his mewls turning into loud and urgent until a final screech was torn from his throat.

There was never a time Keith wasn’t beautiful but like this—with come on his black tail and dribbling down his thighs—he was devastating.

“Come here,” Shiro said, taking Keith into his arms. Keith collapsed into his hold easily, letting Shiro support him fully.

Shiro scratched at his ears, smiling to himself when Keith started to purr. The purring wasn’t from the potion but never had it been more appropriate.

“You make an excellent cat.”

Keith pawed at him weakly but if it was meant to be in protest to Shiro’s words it was undermined by the way he drifted off to sleep while still purring.

 

🌅

The priestess waited in the center of the circle for them. Shiro couldn’t see Keith yet but he knew he was standing at the opposite end of the aisle. The wedding circle was divided into five parts, four triangles pointing at a circle in the center, each section representing a different deity in the human’s pantheon. The center belonged to the goddess of the sky, an unusual choice to be married under. Most chose the goddess of nature as she was a symbol of fertility and a happy home life while a few more amorous couples chose the god of fire for his association with passion and devotion. The goddess of the sky was capricious and vain, but she was also bold and unafraid, a goddess of luck and a patron of free spirits. It felt like a fitting choice even if Keith had simply made the choice because he liked the sky goddess’s association with flight.

The ground began to glow, lighting up a path that would take him to the center to meet Keith. He was unexpectedly nervous at the prospect of seeing Keith after the ritual of separation had kept them apart for five days. It was a miracle Keith hadn’t bitten off priestess’s head when she had explained the ritual. She soothed Keith’s anger by letting him know communication between them wasn’t forbidden. They sent messages to each other that had Shiro testing the limits of his written Galran. Keith’s handwriting was particularly difficult to read, messy and full of shorthand, not at all like the formal Galran in books.

_I like Altean traditions more_ , Keith wrote in one message.

_I have to agree with you,_  Shiro wrote back.

Shiro was nearly at the center of the circle before Keith came into view.

The thudding in his chest felt as loud as Keith’s wings.

Keith was Shiro’s counterpart in black. Like Shiro parts of his clothing were sheer, including his cape and sleeves, but Shiro thought it had an entirely different effect in black than in white. Jewels decorated the fabric, easy to see even from a distance with the way they sparkled in the sun. If Keith’s clothing was truly the inverse of Shiro’s there was likely detailed embroidery on the fabric that could only be appreciated up close.

When Shiro had been presented with the attire he had told King Holt it was too much even as a gift but seeing it on Keith made him rethink his protests: it was exactly the kind of finery Keith deserved. His dark hair cascaded in soft waves, framing the sharp angles of his face. Shiro wanted to run his fingers through it but whoever had styled Keith’s hair would surely have interrupted the wedding to beat him. Shiro knew from experience it was difficult to get Keith’s hair to do anything purposefully.

Someone coughed. Shiro paid them no mind.

They coughed louder, with  _meaning_.

Shiro finally realized he had stopped walking. He willed his legs to move. He blinked, his eyelids heavy as if struggling to wake from a dream.

Keith reached the center before he did. He hadn’t stopped to gawk at Shiro like a fool. He held out his hands for Shiro to take.

His expression was calm and serene but when Shiro took Keith’s hands he could feel that Keith was shaking from nerves. He hadn’t expected Keith to be anxious, not with how little he cared about marriage, but standing there with Keith’s nervousness hanging in the air he started to rethink his assumptions. Despite the inconvenience of the wedding and the confusing traditions rooted in a culture Keith didn’t understand Keith had said yes the entire way. Shiro had assumed Keith went along with the wedding because he wanted to make Shiro happy but with the way Keith looked at him as they held hands in front of the priestess and guests, he felt the undeniable truth that Keith wanted to marry him as much as he wanted to marry Keith.

Shiro didn’t hear a word the priestess said during the ceremony. His whole world was Keith. Every flutter of Keith’s eyelashes, every rise and fall of Keith’s chest, every beat of Keith’s heart made up the entirety of Shiro’s world. Keith’s hands stilled and he smiled; it was more dazzling than every jewel adorning his shirt could ever hope to be.

The death of Shiro’s family, the war, his imprisonment, the loss of his arm—after all he’d been through he’d been content to live a simple life on the fringes of court, alone but grateful to be alive, grateful for the few that knew him beyond his war hero facade. Meeting Keith, befriending Keith, falling for him—it was all beyond the scope of his imagination. That was how he knew it wasn’t a dream. He could never dream up a person like Keith.

The priestess finished her blessings. The air shimmered. A light breeze fluttered around them with a purpose. Perhaps it was the sky goddess or perhaps it was the priestess’s magic—either way, Shiro felt something divine when Keith kissed him.

 

🌅

The wine flowed freely at the wedding banquet. At least Shiro’s did. He really had missed wine since moving to Daibazaal. He had fond memories of running through his family’s vineyards and playing hide and seek in them with the local children. It was possible some of the wines at the banquet were made from the very grapes of his childhood. It wasn’t just nostalgia for his childhood that made him miss wine. There was also the fact that the only alcohol easily accessible in Daibazaal was the toxic pisswater the Galra made.

“Őrézek isn’t toxic,” Keith chided. “And you really can’t appreciate its taste if you’re in a flightless form.” In proper Galran the word  _Őrézek_ was said with a burst of flame at the start; to Shiro that said everything that needed to be said about the drink.

Human, Altean, and Galra faces stopped by to offer their congratulations. All three races mingled; they ate and laughed and danced together. There was no way to tell how their guests truly felt about each other, if the ease in their interactions existed for this day only to honor the union between Shiro and Keith, but it gave Shiro hope at least for a brighter future. He’d seen the slow build of that future with the friendship between Allura and Krolia; Coran and Kolivan; and Romelle, Pidge, and Keith. Distrust and fear could be overcome and Shiro was proud to be part of that.

The lively tune the orchestra played changed into something softer and sweeter.

Shiro turned to Keith. “Dance with me.” It wasn’t a question. He took Keith’s in his and stood, pulling Keith up as he went. The suddenness of it made Keith’s chair scrape against the floor.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Keith protested.

“Just follow my lead,” Shiro said easily.

There was a time when Shiro had been formally trained to dance and even a time when he’d danced the informal styles of common folk during the war campaign, but he hadn’t danced in years, not since before he’d lost his right arm.

He remembered fewer of the steps than he’d expected and since Keith knew none of them at all it wasn’t long before their dancing turned into Shiro moving with the music as he pleased, dragging Keith along with him.

“You’re drunk,” Keith pointed out. “How many glasses of wine did you have exactly?”

“I’m not drunk from the wine.” Shiro spun them; it wasn’t a part of the song calling for a spin but Shiro felt like doing it. Their capes spun around them.

“What, then?”

The sun was starting to set but the banquet was far from over; the celebration would keep going well into the night and for Shiro, it would never stop at all.

“You.  _Us._  This!” He gestured as he spoke and stumbled when the floor got away from him. Luckily he had Keith to steady him. “Perhaps also a bit from the wine.”

“Perhaps,” Keith agreed, smiling. “I think should be the one leading for the rest of the night for safety’s sake.”

“I’m happy to be led,” Shiro said.

Keith laughed; Shiro didn’t see anything particularly funny about what he’d said but the wine made it easy to laugh with him.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Keith took over the dance, more careful in his movements than Shiro was. They bumped into a significantly smaller amount of people.

The sun continued to set in reds and pinks and it reminded him of the mornings he used to spend with Keith when they first met, Keith’s red scales blending into the sunrise as he flew.

They danced as the sky grew dark. It was a cloudless night and the stars shone brightly but none of them were as bright as Keith’s laugh, or Keith’s smile, or Keith’s eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote 90% of this with daft punk's get lucky playing in the background and I never though of a better title .___.


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